"I know exactly what I have done," replied Spurlock. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. "In the name of your lamented parent, whose memory I shall for ever revere, I implore you to answer me," urged Kneebone, "why—why would you not accept him?" "Because our positions are different," replied Winifred, who could not resist this appeal to her feelings. If she mentioned Ramage he might have a fit—anything might happen. His food lay untouched about his plate. It never is.
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